Tag Archives: Alken-Maes

Only beer #217 and it was with some relief that I reached the end of the Grimbergen range with the Tripel. I’m not saying that these beers are awful in anyway, but if ever there was an example of mass marketed mediocrity then this is it. This is an accusation often levelled at Leffe, but to be fair I’d take the Leffe Blonde (#41) over any of the Grimbergen beers any day.

It was only a few beers ago when I went exploring the Grimbergen website to search for the Goud/Doree (#212) and it was there that I found something most peculiar. Everything was in order on the Belgian version of the website, but somehow I had also managed to end up on a slightly different version of the website which presented me with what could only amount to a parallel universe. Where I was previously perusing through the Grimbergen Blonde (#8), and Grimbergen Dubbel (#9), I suddenly found myself at the end of a long dusty wardrobe staring out at an alien wintry landscape – there in full Grimbergen regalia stood a Grimbergen Blanche, and a Grimbergen Rouge. I rubbed the centre of my eyes to dramatic effect and looked again only for a Grimbergen Ambree to bounce into view. I really had entered some awful version of Beer Narnia.

With the horrific realisation that I might have to try more Grimbergen beers, I panicked and stumbled back through the wardrobe grasping at the fur lined coats and gasping for breath. As I sat in a puddle on the floor I tried to make sense of what I had just seen. I tried the website again. Nothing. I searched for Grimbergen. Nothing. I even checked with the O’Mighty one at ratebeer. Still confused. I looked back through the wardrobe and there was nothing but a sturdy oak panel. Christ, what did they put in that Val-Dieu Tripel (#216)?

Once my mind was straight(er) I was able to eventually find my way back to the reality which all stems from the history of takeovers which have punctuated the existence of the Brasserie Union; from its days as Alken-Maes, to the takeover by Carlsberg, and now where it sits under the watchful sentry of Kronenbourg. The latter of course are a monolithic beer producer in France, and all the apparitional beers which clouded my judgment do exist but more notably for the French market. There is even a Grimbergen La Reserve which I’m still working out whether I need to consider adding to my Odyssey. For now though I’m drinking the Grimbergen Tripel with the view that this will be my last for quite some time.

In fairness this may not have been that bad a beer. Although the pour was particularly flat with little sign of any lasting head, and that there was a certain flatness to the carbonation – the taste was quintessentially Tripel. There was some medium spicing and a good level of alcohol which you would expect from a beer of 9% ABV. I would go as far as saying this was the pick of the range that is marketed in Belgium – and I will leave it there for now. I have grudgingly accepted that that there is no quelling that damned Phoenix.

Another beer from the surprisingly extensive Grimbergen range, and following the recent review of the Optimo Bruno (#194), here follows another with a bold claim of greatness. One would fully expect that with the appellation Cuvee de l’Ermitage this would be some kind of serious brew – Cuvee de l’Ermitage translates crudely as the monks best beer from the most select vats, or something along those lines.

This claim is more likely to have been true in the past, as Alken-Maes (who took over the old Union brewery in 1978) inherited this then highly regarded beer. The original beer was a full 1% stronger in ABV weighing in at 8.5%, and was brewed largely as a Christmas beer. At one time it even bore the name Cuvee de l’Ermitage Christmas. It was largely brewed as a kind of seasonal beer using a selection of three kinds of hops and a variation of special malts. After fermentation it was left to rest for three months in carefully designed tanks which would allow the beer to develop its characteristic flavour – often referred to as bitter, and not unlike Armagnac brandy.

The term ‘Cuvee’ as it is most often used these days in relation to wine seems to apply fairly reasonably to this old beer, in that it reflects a batch of beer blended in a distinctly different way to the rest. The term Hermitage refers most generically to a place where groups of people would live in seclusion in order to devote themselves fully to religious or monastic purposes. This was almost always ascetic in nature, and some of the finest beers known to humanity have been made in this way – the Trappist way.

I never tried the original beer, so I can only comment on the latest incarnation of the recipe, but this is certainly no Cuvee, and it certainly isn’t made in a Hermitage. For me the Cuvee de l’Ermitage is just another average beer that isn’t even as good as the two staple Grimbergen beers (#8, #9) on which it is trying to clearly discern itself from. It was firstly far too thin, with a weak insipid head, which ended up resembling a faded pale amber. It didn’t smell of a great deal but had a fairly unique flavour – quite hoppy with plenty of citrus. This was once a seemingly great beer, but is now little more than a marketable addition to an extremely average range of brews. What else would you expect though from Alken-Maes?

This was the first beer I had tried from the Grimbergen range, outside of the supermarket popular Blonde (#8) and Dubbel (#9), and from all the hype around this I expected to be impressed – Optimo Bruno literally translates as “Best Brown” in Italian.

The Optimo Bruno is widely available nowadays, although originally this strong dark beer was brewed only as an Easter brew. There will be time to look in more depth at the whole concept of Easter beers, but today I wanted to concentrate on the “Best Brown” tag. How did this bold claim stand up in light of other brown beers I have drunk so far? Having had an extended break from writing about beers in recent months it certainly seems an ideal time to reflect.

I always face a dilemma when I am roaming Belgium in search of new beers. As I trawl the drankencentrums with my trusty home-made beer list, drooling like a kid in a candy shop at the vast selections on offer, I almost always neglect to bring back home enough tried and trusted beers which I have previously delighted in. In terms of high quality brown beers which should grace any cellar, the pick of my adventure so far has been the Trappistes Rochefort 8 (#31), Trappistes Rochefort 10 (#13), Chimay Blue (#45), St Bernardus Tripel Abt 12 (#46), and the Westvleteren 12 (#66). While nobody can deny the quality of any of these highly rated beers, listing these as the top 5 brown beers out of 193 drunk so far does seem somewhat like sitting on the fence. It wouldn’t take a reader long to pick up any reputable beer book or website and find the same views replicated hundreds of times.

There has to be some motivation in giving up the regular imbibing of these classics to force yourself through what at times can feel like an average Belgian back catalogue of beer. This motivation is always completely revived when every once in a while you find a beer which hits your salivary G-spot which was completely unexpected. You get the feeling of exploration and discovery which somehow doesn’t equate to the joy of finding a beer that is universally idolised. For me there have been a couple of brown beers which have hit that spot. The T’Smisje Dubbel (#184) was about as good as it gets, albeit closely followed by the Maredsous 8 Brune (#111).

So could the Alken-Maes self-styled “Best Brown” measure up to these high standards? The bottom line was that this was a decent brown beer. It poured a dark ruby red, and was slightly thinner than I expected of a 10% beer. There was plenty of depth to the taste which was certainly nicely complicated, although there was perhaps just a bit too much ‘herbal, which left it tasting slightly more artificial than some of the aforementioned browns. I can therefore confirm that this beer is indeed an “Optimo Bruno” but only in the Grimbergen range (and that certainly isn’t the boldest statement I will ever make).

In 2007 as previously mentioned (#8), Alken-Maes was a bit-part of the major deal which saw Heineken team up with Carlsberg to usurp British giant Scottish Courage. Heineken effectively then became the worlds second largest brewing company after AB-InBev. The Grimbergen range however does survive just as a tiny flea does in the fleece of its strutting master. In fact, Heineken owns two more Abbey brands of beer in Affligem and Postel and the beer drinking world awaits the fate of these in the face of the dog-eat-dog business world that Heineken et al dominate.

It is fair to say however that Heineken has never been a major player in Belgium. Where the Dutch and British mass market have been quaffing Heineken lager by the hectolitre, the Belgian undiscerners have preferred the equally indistinguishable Jupiler (#192), StellaArtois (#116) or Maes. This may all change though as Heineken is the largest multinational brewery in Europe, and is active in over 170 countries. In 2008 alone she saw 125.8 million hectolitres pass under their umbrella, and at least half of that was sold within the European Union. You may have heard of the following beers which are also Heineken staples – Zywiec, Cruz Campo, Birra Moretti, Murphy’s, and 33 Export. While this is something of a success story for the beer business started by Gerard Heineken in 1864, it is a major worry for small regional breweries who struggle to compete financially. The decline in the numbers of breweries over the last fifty years threatens everything we all love about craft beers. I hope this story isnt a portent of things to come in Belgium.

The Grimbergen Dubbel has rich brown chestnutty hues yet remains clearer and thinner than many other brown beers. With more head than the blonde and a definitively smokey aroma, the taste is surprisingly sweet and uncomplicated, yet very pleasant indeed. As you continue to drink, hints of mushroom leap out at you in a brew that is far too drinkable for a dark/dubbel. With availability in UK supermarkets this beer goes very well in a slow cooker casserole *

* (Post-Script) – this has fast become a favourite meal of mine, whereby recently becoming decadent enough to replace the Grimbergen Dubbel with a couple of Trappistes Rochefort 8 (#31) – a la bloody carte if I say so myself !

In 1128 St Norbert of Xanten built a majestic abbey for the eponymously named Norbertine canons of the time in a quiet place called Grimbergen. It is very unusual for an Abbey to have actually been established by the founding of an order, and these religious fellows were famously reknowned for their hospitality and especially their homebrew. The Norbertines, or the Praemonstratensians started life near Reims in French Champagne country and moved northwards. The original building, like many other abbeys, has been knocked down and rebuilt many times throughout history, including 1796 when Napoleon decided to shut up shop, however a beautiful church remains left in the town as a reminder of former glories. Much of this is due to the rebuild which happened in the 1830s after the Abbey had been secularised, and further restorations continued in the 1920s to ensure it is now among one of Belgium’s prettiest churches.

Brewing probably started at the Grimbergen Abbey in the 1600s and only stopped due to the French Revolution. The rich brewing traditions however passed to Maes brewery in 1958 at the monks own request, and this alliance has continued even despite Maes merging with the Alken brewery in 1978 to form Alken-Maes – who now comprise part of the larger Heineken chain. Confusing, but at least the Grimbergen range with its immense brewing history is still going strong today.

This beer smacks of gold; with its vivid colour and smooth texture. There were few bubbles and barely any head to report, and the first taste was fairly lagery but going down it hinted at more. On a session night in beautiful rural Cornwall, this beer proved very drinkable, perhaps too so at the 6.7% strength. It needs perhaps to do more though to impress and really was just a bit too sweet in the end.

(Post-Script) – A better beer, which I often use in cooking, is the Grimbergen Dubbel (#9), which strangely was up next on my list, although the pick of the range is probably the Optimo Bruno (#194). Not that that is a ringing endorsement for what is essentially a pretty average bunch of beers.